Blindside
by Dr. Robin
Summary: Dr. Robin Shepherd a doctor, who's been at County since the beginning of the series, gets life shattering news about her health. COMPLETE!
1. Chapters 1 through 3

**_Blindside_**

* * *

_**This is the first story in a series of sixteen stories. It follows the struggles of Dr. Robin Shepherd (based on myself), who has been at County General since the beginning of the TV series. You can see more about my character in my profile/bio. I hope you enjoy it.**_

* * *

_But he hides a dark soul and foul thoughts_

_Benighted walks under the midday sun;_

_Himself his own dungeon._

John Milton – "Light Within"

**

* * *

**

**-Part 1-**

"**Signs"**

March 3

It's the beginning of the day shift at Chicago's County General Hospital, and a very disheveled Dr. Robin Shepherd shuffles out of the lounge. She's tall and slender, with dark brown hair and eyes that are a startling deep hazel in her pale face. Even though she's 36, there's still a sense of innocence about her.

Michael Gallant, a fourth-year medical student, stands at the front desk, ready to hand off his patients. "Oh, my God," he smiles, "look what the cat dragged in."

Robin gives a quick, sarcastic grin and says, "Shut up, I had to get up three times last night to pee." She has a distinct Southern accent—having been born in Kentucky and lived in Tennessee for most of her life—but it's faded over the past eleven years, after she moved up to the Windy City to start her residency.

Gallant hands her the charts, "I've got three drunks for ya."

"Three?!" she says with surprise.

"They're comin' outta the woodwork," he laughs and starts for the exit, "see ya!"

She scoffs and mumbles, "Lucky bastard."

As she reads over the charts, Frank, the desk clerk, asks discreetly, "So, ya havin' trouble with your plumbin', huh?"

"Excuse me?" she asks.

He rephrases his question, "You said you had to get up a lot last night... You need to get that checked out."

"I'm fine, Frank, don't worry," Robin smiles.

He shakes his head, "Could be serious, y'know... Plus, no offense, but...you look bad."

She reminds him, "I _did _have trouble sleeping, remember?" Then, as she starts over to the soda machine, she reassures him, "I'm fine."

As Frank stares at her, Dr. Carter walks up, sipping coffee, "Ya have a little _crush_ there, Frank?"

"No," he says, "does she look bad to you?"

He flashes a mischievous smile, "Not from where _I'm_ standin'!"

As he laughs to himself, Frank continues, "_Seriously_, does she look different to you at all?"

"She's tired, Frank," Carter says.

"That's because she said she had to get up three times last night to take a leak," he tells him. "It's probably because she drank too much before she went to bed," Carter assumes.

Then, Frank is reminded of something, "Yeah, well, she's been drinkin' more and more sodas everyday for the past month, or anything else she can get her hands on! Plus, she's losin' weight by the week and she's eatin' like a horse! Now, to me, that doesn't add up!"

Carter looks at her again and studies her as she walks down the hall drinking a Mountain Dew. "She _does_ look skinnier than she used to... I can't believe I never noticed." He takes a deep breath and tells Frank, "It's probably nothing, but I'll ask around and see if anybody else knows anything, alright?"

"_Thank_ you," he says and shakes his head, happy to get someone to finally listen to him.

Walking into Curtain 3, Carter finds Dr. Luka Kovac and nurse Abby Lockhart. "Hey, can I see you two for a minute?" he asks, standing in the doorway.

"Sure," Luka says, then, tells his patient, "we'll be back in a minute."

"What's goin' on?" Abby asks, as the two meet Carter in the hall.

"Uh, it's Robin."

Luka seems confused, "What about her?"

Carter takes a second. "Has she been acting strange to you?"

"No, not really. Why?" Abby says.

Carter tells them, "Frank drew my attention to some things, and I just wanted to know if you've noticed them, too."

"Go ahead," Luka tells him.

"Okay," he starts, "he told me that she's been thirsty a lot more than usual and she's been eating and drinking anything that she can get her hands on. He told me that she said she had to get up three times last night to use the bathroom; and, on top of that, she's losing weight."

Silence falls, and Luka speaks, "Now that you mention it, she has been acting odd lately, y'know, having to go to the bathroom every half-hour."

Abby adds, "Yeah, I've noticed that, too. And she looks drawn in the face, and she's tired all the time."

The three colleagues stand silent for a moment, all realizing what's happening to their friend.

Abby is obviously troubled and glances around as she puts her hands on her hips,

shifting nervously. Luka looks at John, "So...how do we handle this?"

He thinks, and admits, "I'm not sure."

Abby closes her eyes shortly and offers to help, "I'll do it... I'll talk to her."

"Are you sure?" Carter asks.

She sighs, "Yeah."

He nods his head. "Okay," he says softly and starts to head down the hall, "tell me how it goes."

Luka can sense that she's very worried, but he doesn't know what to say. He keeps his eyes on her for a second, and then, walks back into the room.

Abby stares at the floor in a daze and snaps out of it, finally. She puts a hand on her forehead and sighs, then, pushes the hair out of her face. Slowly turning toward the door, she spots Robin at the other end of the hallway looking at an x-ray. Abby can't bear to even look at her, for the fear of what might happen to her if she keeps getting sicker.

Reluctantly, she walks back into Curtain 3 and decides to talk to her friend later.

**

* * *

**

**-Part 2-**

"**Save Me"**

Three hours later

Paramedics Pickman and Zadro roll into the ER with a patient. Carter and Abby rush and help wheel the stretcher down toward the trauma rooms.

"What've we got?" Carter asks.

Pickman informs him: "22-year-old male with two gunshot wounds to the left chest, no exit wounds. Intubated in the field; pulse 90; BP is 109 over 86; resps 21; pulse ox is 93."

As they pass the nurses' station, Carter shouts to Luka––who's standing outside the suture room talking to a patient's family member, "Luka, we may need an extra pair of hands in here!"

They wheel the young man into Trauma 1, and Luka sees Dr. Greg Pratt sitting in Trauma 2 doing chart reviews on a gurney. "Pratt, you wanna help?"

"No, thanks. I'm busy," he says.

Suddenly, Robin comes in as the two paramedics leave. "Need some help?"

"Sure," Carter says, "jump right in."

20 minutes later

Robin works silently as she sews up a hole in the gunshot victim's heart. She starts to squint her eyes and breathe heavily, "Dammit, I'm havin' trouble seein' what I'm doin'."

"What's wrong?" Luka asks her.

"My vision keeps gettin' all blurry for some reason," she says and cuts herself off, "somebody take over for me."

Carter takes over where she's left off.

Abby sees Robin suddenly get a sharp pain in her side, and she moves to the other side of the gurney next to Luka––pressing on her abdomen the entire time.

Luka becomes concerned and asks, "You okay, Rob?"

"I dunno," she answers, getting another suture kit ready on an instrument tray. She suddenly becomes very still and grabs hold of the gurney rail; her face is blanched white and her breathing picks back up again.

Abby moves over next to her, "Rob, what's wrong?"

She tries to speak but only mumbles incoherently; her eyes are strange and she loses all expression on her face. She takes a step back from the gurney and puts a hand on the tray beside her as Abby keeps a close watch of her. Robin's eyelids begin to flutter, her eyeballs roll back in her head, and she loses consciousness––collapsing to the hard floor, taking the tray with her.

"Oh, my God...Robin!" Abby says, not being able to catch her and keep her from hitting her head. She kneels down next to her and feels for a pulse.

Carter, finished suturing, rushes to Robin's side. He pats her cheeks, trying to get her to open her eyes, "Robin?! Robin, _WAKE_ UP!"

Pratt runs in, after hearing the crash of the instrument tray. "What happened to her?"

"She just passed out! Let's take her to Trauma 2!" Carter orders. They carefully pick her up and carry her next-door. "Move the charts, Pratt! _Move the charts!_" Carter yells––his voice filled with anger and emotion.

"How's she doing?" Luka shouts.

"I'm not sure, but she doesn't look good!" he shouts back. "C'mon, dammit, _c'mon_!!" he yells at Robin.

Abby stays silent as she works, putting an IV in her arm.

As the three work together, sounds and voices fade. The underlying symptoms of a deadly disease have taken down a trusted friend and have now put her in crisis, fighting for her life.

The bedlam of this doctor's life has now begun.

* * *

**-Part 3-**

"**The Right Words"**

_(The music from season 7's _"The Visit"_ begins.)_

Through the doors leading into Trauma 2, you see Robin resting on the gurney dressed in a patient gown**––**IVs and wires hang from her arms and chest; she breathes in oxygen through a nasal cannula.

Abby stands helplessly, looking at Robin's pale skin and lifeless body. She knows that she's only resting now, but imagines the worst.

Carter walks up to her and peers through the other door. "She woke up yet?" he questions softly, not taking his eyes off of Robin.

It takes Abby a moment, but she finally whispers, "No."

"How long have you been standing here?"

"I don't know."

"You need to go home, get some rest—"

"No, I'm fine."

"You've been off for an hour—"

"Yeah, I know... I can't leave her, I can't..."

Carter looks at Abby, concerned. He nods, then says, "Okay...I understand. I'll, uh...see you when you get home, then."

She tells him, "Yeah..."

After taking another moment, Carter strolls away and leaves Abby with her thoughts. She finally decides to go in and opens the door slowly, stepping in and letting it swing closed behind her. As she gets closer, her mind begins to race: what is she going to tell her? _How_ will she tell her? Abby steps up to the bedside and brings the siderail down; then, sits on a stool next to the bed.

Robin feels someone next to her and comes out of her sleep. She squints her eyes as she gets used to the light. "Hey," she smiles, seeing Abby sitting next to her.

"Hi," Abby murmurs. "How ya feelin'?"

Robin takes a deep breath and lets it out sharply, "Weird... _God_, what _happened_?"

"You don't remember?" Abby asks.

"Not really...it's all a big blur."

After a moment, Abby tells her, "Rob, you passed out during a trauma."

She's stunned––she can't believe that she can't remember. She closes her eyes, overcome by so many emotions at once. She knows why she passed out, she just doesn't want to hear the words.

"Rob, we found out why you collapsed..." Abby stops when she sees her start to nod her head.

Robin opens her eyes, now covered in tears, and stares at the clock above the doors for a moment. She looks over slowly until she's staring into Abby's gentle eyes, and she utters in a low tone, "Go on...say it."

Abby is shaken and feels as though she can't speak. She collects herself long enough to reveal, "Your blood sugar was 438... You lapsed into a small coma... You're diabetic."

Her face gives way to sorrow as she closes her eyes, says softly, "Hmm...shit," and begins to lose everything––tears streaming down her cheeks. She tries to hold back her sobs, but as Abby moves over and sits next to her on the bed, she lets go and breaks down in a state of paralyzing fear. Her voice is a forced whisper, "I shouldn't be here like this..." and as she cries, her voice breaks, "this isn't right..."

Abby, herself, is heartbroken and holds her best friend in her arms––rocking her back and forth. "I know...it isn't right... I know." She feels Robin shake with fear inside her embrace. "You'll be alright," she whispers. "Shhh...you'll be alright." She is powerless and can only offer love and support, along with the rest of the ER.

In an instant, Robin's world has changed with life-shattering news, and she will have to cope with never being the same.

* * *

_I'll be posting three chapters at a time._

_Please let me know what you think._


	2. Chapters 4 through 6

**-Part 4- **

**"Pressure" **

March 5

A confining pain engulfs Robin as she lays in a bed up in the ICU. She stares up at the ceiling with a haunting face, barely blinking. Darkness fills the room and she lets her roommate sleep, having trouble doing so herself. From time to time, Robin hears noises from out in the hall; her ears ring and everything sounds distorted as emptiness fills her body. The stagnant air encircles her and teases her with feelings of sleep and well-being. Her eyelids become heavy and fall shut.

No sooner than she drifts off, her roommate (on pain medication, and high as a kite) decides to entertain her at one in the morning. "_Xanadu!!_ Blah blah blah blah, Xanadu..."

Robin jumps and lets out sharp breaths. "God, in heaven..." she says softly. "Sir, please," she tries to make him quit, "if you could––"

He continues and keeps interrupting her.

"Sir, could..._please_... could ya cut it _out_?!"

The man keeps going, forgetting words and singing off-key.

Realizing it's useless to try to get his attention, Robin flops her head back down on the pillow and rolls her eyes at the ceiling. After listening to more, she gets angry and decides to turn her back to him––rolling over, pulling at the bedding, and grumbling to herself, "Crazy-ass...keepin' me up at one in the mornin'...good-for-nothin' tone-deaf guy _wakin'_ me up..." She shakes her head and sighs as she closes her eyes; the man suddenly stops and Robin raises her eyebrows, saying in a whisper, "Thank you, God."

The silence doesn't last, though, as the man blurts out, "**_FAME!!_** I wanna live forever..." Robin's eyes are wide as she listens to more, "I wanna learn how to fly, _high_!!"

Now morning, Robin walks out of the private bathroom, dressed in green scrubs. She sits down on the bed and leans back against the head of the bed, which has been lifted. Her roommate, who evidently loves 80's musicals, has now been discharged, and she sits alone. She hears someone knock on the door and she looks over to see Dr. Robert Romano standing in the doorway, surprised to see him here. Robin grins, "Hi!"

"Well, well, well..." he says, "if it isn't our own Dr. Shepherd. Decided to join the patients, have you?"

"Tee-hee," she says sarcastically. "Not by choice."

Romano nods, "Yeah, I know what you mean." Only five months ago, Robert, himself, became a patient when he was trying to transport a patient on the roof. Luka and Dr. Susan Lewis were arguing with him about who was going to get to use the helicopter first. Robert won the argument and moved his patient closer to the chopper; then, the wind slung the chart to the concrete. He bent down to pick it up–– not realizing he was near the tail's rodder––and as he stood, the blades sliced his left arm completely off. He is still recovering and trying to get some use of it back.

"You look horrible," he says.

"So everyone keeps tellin' me," she says, sounding melancholy. "For one thing, my roommate, Mr. Davenport, kept me up 'til two this mornin' singin' songs from 80's musicals!"

Romano chuckles, "Well, that explains it." He notices Robin's behavior and becomes concerned. "Rob, are you gonna talk to anybody?"

She looks up at him, "Hmm-what?"

"Are ya gonna talk to anyone..." he repeats, "therapy?"

Nodding, she says, "Yeah, today. DeRadd said he'd see me."

"Good," he tells her, and an awkward silence falls. "So, uh...I guess I'll leave you alone and let you get some rest," he grins slightly, "we'll see ya soon." As Romano turns to the door, he suddenly remembers, "_Oh_, I got you a present!"

"Really?! _You?!_"

He hands her three candy bars, and leaves––saying on his way out, "It reminded me of you!"

Sitting in silence, Robin seems amused, offended, and touched at his gesture. She smiles and lets out a dry laugh––tossing the chocolate onto the bed and looking out the window at the city outside.

Robin sits outside the office of Dr. Carl DeRadd––the chief of Psychiatry. She moves around in her chair impatiently––running her fingers through her hair and drumming her fingers on the armrests. Suddenly, the door opens.

"Ah, Dr. Shepherd, come in," DeRadd smiles.

She gets up and walks into his office––trailing a hand down the front of her scrub top, getting the wrinkles out.

Inside the room, he closes the door and says, "Take a seat." As Robin sits, DeRadd walks behind his desk and sits down himself. "So, Dr. Shepherd, we all heard about what happened the other day," he says, "and we are _deeply_ sorry."

"Thank you..." she tells him, "but it's not your fault. If it's anybody's fault, it's my _own_."

"Why are you blaming yourself?"

"Wouldn't you blame yourself of you'd just been diagnosed with an incurable disease?"

DeRadd wonders why Robin isn't as forthcoming with her feelings as he'd hoped. "I'm guessing you don't really feel up to talking right now, do you?"

Robin rubs her forehead, "No...not really."

He nods his head, realizing her physical state. "Okay... We can talk another time," he says as he stands.

Robin stands up and shakes his hand, "Thanks," and turns to leave. She opens the door and walks out––her expression disappears altogether; she looks haunted, distraught.

Dr. DeRadd is left to wonder what will become of herself in the days and weeks to come.

* * *

**-Part 5-**

**"A Time to Forget" **

March 6

Dr. Kerry Weaver ambles down the hall toward Robin's room, not quite sure why she wants to see her. She slows as she reaches the open door, and then knocks.

Robin looks over and smiles, "Kerry! Hey!"

Weaver is surprised to see her in such high spirits, "Hi! You're going home, I see."

"Yeah," she sighs, "and, uh, I wanted to talk to you before I left."

"Okay," Kerry says.

Robin clears her throat and tells her, "I, uh...wanted to see what my schedule is for next week."

Dumbfounded, Kerry hesitates. "Well, you're not working at _all_ next week."

"Why not?"

"You need time to rest and get your strength back," she explains.

"I'm fine, Kerry," Robin smiles, "I'm _fine_."

Kerry can see her frail state—mentally and physically. She doesn't buy it for a second, and she talks to her in a soft tone. "Look, Robin...working is not an option to you right now. You are taking some time off, and if you don't like it...tough."

"Kerry, please," she begs, "I'm not ready to throw in the towel yet, okay? I can't sit at home and self-destruct."

"You can't treat a diabetic patient in a trauma without self-destructing either," she says quickly.

Robin knows that she's right and gets emotional, "God, what am I gonna do, Kerry? I don't know what to do."

After a long silence, Weaver offers, "Come back in a few days and we'll discuss it then... Meanwhile, keep seeing Dr. DeRadd. We'll be basing our decision on what he thinks."

Robin wipes her eyes and says softly, "Thank you, Kerry."

She grins and nods, as if to say, "You're welcome," and slowly leaves. After Weaver disappears, Robin stands alone—thinking about what to do next. She clears her throat again and takes a long look around the room, loathing it in a way. One last moment passes and she picks up her backpack, which Susan brought to her––stuffed with clothes, a toothbrush, and things she might need. She leaves with a heavy sigh, closing the door behind her.

* * *

**-Part 6-**

**"Things Not Seen"**

March 12

Drs. Romano, Weaver, and Shepherd sit in a conference room, ready to discuss Shepherd's return to work. She sits on the opposite side of the table from Kerry and Robert—who are being unusually quiet; her elbows propped up on the armrests of her chair and her fingers laced together. She raises her eyebrows and then asks, "So, uh...what's the word?"

Kerry hesitates before saying anything. "Well..." she begins, "after talking with Dr. DeRadd, we feel that these past few weeks have taken a toll on your mental health and that you wouldn't be able to handle the weight and stress of coming back to work so soon..."

Robin has a feeling that bad news is on the way, and she takes an angry, deep breath.

"We feel that you need to take some time off...so, starting today, you are now on an extended leave-of-absence."

Taken aback by this, Robin stares at Kerry with a stone-cold gaze. "How long?"

"Since you've already been off for a week...you'll take another three weeks. A month altogether," Kerry sighs.

Robin has a strange grin on her face—in disbelief. "What'll I do about money?"

"It's a paid leave," Weaver tells her.

Robin nods her head slowly, and both Robert and Kerry can see that she's not happy. "Kerry...please. This is all I have."

"We know how difficult this must be for you—"

"Do you?" she interrupts. "Because I don't think you do. You don't know what it's like havin' to watch the clock all day; havin' to stab myself with a needle every time I eat a damn meal. I don't wanna hear anyone say that they know what it's like...because they don't."

Kerry takes a moment, letting the awkward silence drag on. "Are you gonna be okay with this?" she asks with caution.

"Well, that goes without saying, now doesn't it?" Robin says flatly, staring at Kerry, then Robert. She looks down at the desk and says slowly, emphasizing every word, "This is all I have... My friends... and my job." Then, she glances back at the two of them again.

"We're so sorry, Robin," Kerry tells her softly.

Robin's eyes are heavy with anger as she says, "Thanks..." and then stands, "thanks for nothing." She moves to the door and starts to leave.

Romano calls out to her, "Robin..."

"See ya in three weeks," she shouts as the door closes behind her.

The two doctors sit in silence, until Romano chimes in, "Is it me, or do we piss off more people than telemarketers?"

The elevator doors to the ER slide open, and Robin saunters out and into the main hallway.

Seeing her approaching the front desk, Carter and Pratt smile. Carter starts to say something, but Robin interrupts him. "Don't even _say_ it..."

They get confused when she heads straight for the ambulance bay doors. "Where ya goin'?" Pratt asks.

She stops and turns to face them, "Home, to sit on my ass and mope around for three weeks."

Carter chuckles, "Why?"

"Because they're _making_ me," she says bluntly. "They think I'm _'unstable'_," she says, making quotations in the air.

"Sorry," Carter smiles sympathetically.

Pratt adds, "Come by and visit us."

"Will do," she grins, and she moves to the doors again. "I'll have to, anyway, to get my paychecks."

The men stand behind the desk, wishing that none of this had ever happened to her. Suddenly, Pratt grabs a chart and says, "She gets sick, gets off for four weeks, _and_ she gets paid? _Damn_, man, she's got it _good_!"

He walks away without another word, and Carter shouts, "I don't think she sees it like that, Pratt."

Robin walks through the ambulance bay, freezing—having never taken her black winter coat out of her locker before she left. She doesn't want to go back inside, so she keeps walking. Her face is glum as she turns the corner, heading for the El. Her world has become gray, and she has no idea what her mind will put her through in the coming weeks.

* * *


	3. Chapters 7 through 10

**hey there, i'm posting the last four chapters! let me just say that the ending may be a little "weird" and over the top, but that's just the way i wrote it. i understand that many of you haven't acutally "enjoyed" my first story, what with my character not really behaving the way an experienced doctor should, and that everyone else seems to be overly-sensitive to her illness. i want to thank everyone who at least looked at it and thank the ones who reviewed it---although i did get one that really hated it! anyway...here's the final conclusion to this story.**

* * *

**-Part 7- **

**"Red Flag"**

March 18

Inside Doc Magoo's—the small diner across the street from the hospital—Robin is joined by Carter, Abby, and Gallant. As Carter finishes a funny story about his days in med school, they all have a pretty good laugh; until Abby glances across the table to Robin—who's barely managing a smile and staring oddly at her cup of ice water. She becomes concerned and her smile disappears. "Are you alright?" she asks softly.

Robin looks up suddenly and starts rubbing her forehead, "Uh...I haven't been feelin' like myself."

Suddenly, the two men become concerned, also.

Abby asks, "Are you depressed?" She sees her nod reluctantly, then, she tells Robin, "You _can_ grieve... There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know, but..." she takes a moment, "'depressed' and 'grieving' aren't the words I'd use... It's worse than that."

"How bad _is_ it?" Abby asks, afraid to hear the answer.

Robin smiles and lets out a dry laugh as she looks out the window. "Let's just say that my doctors don't realize how easy they've made it for me to end things." This sends a chill down her friends' spines as they watch her; she looks at them, "I can get _insulin_..._needles_." She casually takes a drink of water.

Abby sits and stares at her—startled by the way Robin is talking: apathetic and numb. She sees her frailty and knows that she's vulnerable as she searches her dark eyes. Carter and Gallant also watch her careless behavior—not caring what happens to herself at this point.

Robin notices their stares, and grins, "Don't worry... I won't do anything." She takes another drink, and then, looks out the window again—leaving her three friends speechless, wondering what to say to her.

Gallant opens his mouth to say something but hesitates. He says finally, "You'll get through this."

Robin wears a look on her face, as if to say, "I don't know about that." She begins: "Y'know, it-it's so..." and takes a deep breath, letting it out sharply as she starts again, "**_hard_**...to _deal_ with _every_ _little_ _thing_. The testing, the needles, the insulin; watchin' the clock all day; watchin' how much I eat and how many carbs I take in... The **_pain_**... Just havin' it's bad enough...now, I have to put up with all this other crap," she says and takes a drink. She puts the cup down softly; then, starts shaking her head, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. Robin looks as if she's in pain, which she is—she hurts inside. "God... I'm sorry," she tells them, glancing up.

"Don't worry," Abby softly says. "We're here."

Robin grins at her, and then looks at Carter and Gallant—their eyes tell her that she's not alone. She lets out a silent laugh and shakes her head, "You guys are great."

Carter grins, "You're not half bad, yourself."

They all start chuckling, and Robin nods, "Thank you."

You see the four friends sitting in the booth from outside through the icy window. You begin to pull away until you see the light traffic passing by, making tire tracks in the thin mist of snow that covers the

asphalt.

What will become of the young doctor? Everyone close to her is wondering in silence.

**-Part 8- **

**"Wounded" **

March 19

In this early evening hour, Robin stands in her small kitchen—leaning against the counter, getting ready to eat. She reaches for a clean needle and her insulin vial; she takes the top off the syringe, holding it in her teeth, and draws up her dose of medication as she holds it up to the light. Putting the vial down, Robin sighs as she pulls up her shirt slightly. She drives the sharp needle into her stomach and pushes the insulin into her body—pain radiates through her abdomen, and she stomps her foot on the floor. **_"God!"_** she says loudly through her clinched teeth, nauseated. Taking the needle out, blood rushes out right behind it. Robin grabs a tissue from the box on the window sill and stands pushing on her stomach for a moment. She tosses the tissue onto the counter, along with her needle and the orange top—fed up with all of it—and walks into the living room, where her dinner and some prime-time TV shows wait for her.

_I live in the weak and the wounded. _

"Simon" (an evil "spirit") in the movie _Session 9 _

Time has passed, and Robin stands up from her couch with her plate and glass. She moves into the kitchen and puts her dirty dishes in the sink, turning on the faucet for a moment.

_"Hello...Robin..."_

The voice she hears seems to come from inside her, but she looks over her shoulders anyway— making sure no one's behind her, whispering in her ear. She stares at the water coming out of the faucet, her face blank and her eyes unsure. The voice is warbled, as if it were resinating from an old, distorted cassette tape. It frightens her, but yet, it possesses her at the same time.

Something catches her eye off to the side: she forgot about the mess she made. She turns the water off and starts cleaning up—putting the used alcohol swabs in the trash and placing the used sharps in a puncture-proof container that she stole from work.

She stares at the box of unused needles in front of her—thinking about something. A secret nervousness, that no one else close to her knows of, begins to take hold of her—staring at the potential weapons in her line of sight. She wants some kind of vengeance for the disease that has taken over her life, and a dark madness has begun to set within Robin's mind. Her grieving takes a violent turn.

_"Do it, Robin."_

Her arm suddenly lashes out and fumbles around in the box, pulling out a syringe and holding it in her teeth as she hops up onto the counter—placing one of her feet in the empty side of the sink. She places her forearm on her knee, pulls the orange top off of the needle and spits it out. She starts dragging the sharp edge across the top of her arm; she can hear the needle scrape her skin as it cuts into her. She starts going over the cut several times, making it deeper and watching more blood come to the surface—which drives her even more. "C'mon..._c'mon...**c'mon**_," she mutters under her breath over and over again; her anger grows and you can see it in her eyes. She kills some of the pain inside by bringing about pain on her body—she feels as though that's the only thing that will help her feel alive again. Robin stops cutting and squeezes the skin around the wound, trying to get more blood out. As it runs down her arm slowly, she feels relieved in a way.

She gets down from the counter; now, she seems to have an almost "fidgety" quality to her, as she puts the bloody needle in the red container. Robin stands in the dim kitchen, staring at the damage she's done to herself. Her brows sink and her eyes fill with tears as she watches the blood inch toward her hand. She begins ambling around the kitchen slowly, running the hand of her good arm through her hair and sighing—almost laughing in disbelief, with tears streaming down her face. Robin grabs the glass she had been drinking out of earlier, and slings it against the wall as she begins to unravel—sobbing and sniffing loudly as the glass shatters into a million pieces. She takes the coffee pot, filled halfway with old coffee, and smashes it near the stove as she screams, **_"SHIT!"_**

Then, Robin covers her face with her hands and cries. Her strength fades slowly and her knees give way; her back slides down against the cabinets; she sits listless on the hard floor, dull-eyed and exhausted.

Now, as night falls, Robin sits in her dark kitchen, cluttered with glass; coffee spilled on the wall, counter, and floor. Her arm and hand are covered with blood, which has begun to dry. All she can bring herself to do is just sit; her breathing slows a little; her mind is a haze. The clock moves on. What to do? The airless space suffocates her as she feels everything closing in on her—slowly, but surely, losing her sanity.

_To sacrifice what you are and to live without belief is a fate more terrible than dying. _

Joan of Arc

**-Part 9- **

**"An Idle Mind"**

March 21

Looking a little better then the last time we and the staff saw her, Robin strolls into the ER, glancing at the patients as she walks by. She walks up to the admit desk and asks, "Jerry, have you got my paychecks?"

Jerry turns around and smiles, "Hey, Rob! Yeah, they're right where we always keep 'em."

She grins and makes her way behind the desk, taking off her coat. She hangs it over the back of a chair, and then, looks for her checks under the counter. She finds them and starts to open them, pushing up her long sleeves.

Jerry's face freezes when he sees four large cuts on Robin's arms. He's speechless.

Deciding to open the other two checks later, Robin puts on her red padded jacket—not realizing that her cuts were in full view. Looking up at him, she asks, "What is it, Jerry?"

"Nothing," he tells her, smiling awkwardly.

She grins, confused, "Okay... Tell everybody I said 'hi'."

"Uh-huh," he mumbles as she makes her way to the exit. He watches her walk out the doors and into the cold air; then, he leaves the desk quickly.

"Abby," Jerry says, walking into the drug lock-up and stopping in his tracks.

"Yeah?" she asks, drawing up medication in a syringe.

"I need to talk to you."

_The world is gradually becoming a place where I do not care to be anymore._

John Berryman

The El train picks up speed and all you see is a blur of glass windows and metal. The last car goes by and you see Dr. Shepherd sitting on a bench on the El platform—a chilly breeze blowing through her hair. Her demeanor has changed—she had been faking her feelings of happiness minutes ago; she doesn't want anyone to know the internal struggle she's dealing with.

_"You can hear me..."_

Abby suddenly appears, walking to the top of the stairs and over by Robin's side, just standing by the bench. "You look tired."

Robin doesn't even have to see who it is; she knows. After a moment, she sighs, "No rest for the weary," as she stares out to the tracks; her brows are sunken.

Abby waits to sit down for a few seconds; then, when she does, she tells her, "I talked to Jerry just now...and he said he saw something..." Robin says nothing, so she continues on. "He told me that he saw four cuts on your arms..." she says with an unthreatening voice.

They found out her tragic secret, and all she can do is sit quietly and stare at the snow on the tracks.

Abby watches her friend: she's never seen her like this. She starts to say something, "Rob..."

"Y'know what I see when I look out there?" Robin asks, still keeping her eyes drawn to one spot. "Myself...standin' there." Her eyes are hollow, and Abby becomes frightened. "I'm standin' there...and I'm happy... Everything feels right." The sounds of another train come out of nowhere. "I look down the tracks, and I see the yellow lights on the front...gettin' closer...and closer. Then, suddenly, I turn back and smile at myself." After a moment, she carries on. "Then, I turn to face the train head-on. I can see the conductor's face as he blows the horn at me and tries to put on the brakes to stop... But, it's too late."

Just then, Robin closes her eyes with a grimace—imagining herself being hit by the train that's coming in.

Abby wants to say something, but she's too scared.

"I loved my life...up until three weeks ago," she says sullenly. "I guess it's true what they say...all good things must come to an end." She looks up to the train as it screeches to a stop.

Slowly, Abby watches her stand up.

"This must be the end of me," Robin says, "because I'm just not strong enough anymore... Feels like I'm already dead."

And with that, Robin makes her way onto the train. The doors shut behind her.

Abby is left horrified to her very core by her best friend's words. It seems Robin has lost all hope, and Abby knows that she has to do something, or else her dark thoughts may become a reality.

**-Part 10- **

**"Life Amongst the Ruins" **

Later that evening

Standing at the top of a staircase, you hear heavy footsteps. Abby comes into view as she climbs, floor by floor. She finally reaches the top with a sigh and looks down the hallway to her left; then, she begins the long walk to the end.

On the outside, she seems calm; inside, she's frightened and nervous—almost making herself sick. She doesn't know what else to do, but she has to do something.

Abby reaches the door at the end of the hall: _30_. She stands, looking at the brass numbers drilled onto it. She sighs and knocks on the door; after a moment, it opens. "Hey," she says with a grin—hiding her nervousness.

Robin stands on the other side. "Hey," she grins back, "what are you doin' here?"

Abby's smile shrinks, "I need to talk to you."

She knows why, but agrees and lets her come inside anyway. A single lamp is on, and the television—this is the only light shining in the whole apartment, everything else is dark. Robin picks up the remote and turns the TV off.

"What were you watching? It looked like a cartoon," Abby grins.

"_Speed Racer_... Me and my cousin used to watch it," Robin smiles and sits down.

Abby laughs and sits beside her.

"So...you wanted to talk to me..."

"Yeah," Abby begins, but stops for a moment to find her words. She tells her softly, "Rob, you need help."

Robin nods her head slowly and closes her eyes—angry that she's bringing this up; in her mind, she's convinced that she's fine. She opens her eyes and lets out a scoff.

"Let me help you," Abby whispers, looking into her friend's wounded soul.

"I don't _need_ to be helped, okay?" Robin says sullenly, her voice flat.

"Oh, really?" Abby asks, nodding. She glances over to the coffee table and snatches a tissue out of a Kleenex box; she offers it to Robin.

"What?" she asks sleepily.

Abby sighs, "Your arm's bleeding." Her tone is soft and low.

Robin sees blood running slowly down the side of her arm, ready to drip onto the couch cushion. She takes the tissue and wipes it off; then, presses down on a fresh new cut. She seems embarrassed and nervous, being caught in a lie.

"Did you just do that?" she asks.

Robin says nothing, but she glances at Abby for a moment with a guilty look.

"Why are you _doing_ this to yourself?"

"I'm angry..." she says bluntly. "That's all that I am anymore... I'm not the way I used to be."

Abby shows concern, "You're still in the adjustment phase of your diabetes. You'll get through this... It can be managed—"

_"Managed?" _Robin interrupts; her voice is low. "You can't really _manage_ diabetes." She pauses. "Would it be considered 'managed' if I forgot to eat during a shift and passed out—or even worse, had a seizure because of it? Because of my..._neglect_ to stay on track? No...I don't think so. Not in _my_ head anyway."

Staring at her, Abby hesitates. "Rob...you're thinking about this _way_ too hard."

"Am I?" she asks. "Maybe I'm just bein' real."

"Things'll get back to normal, you just need to give it time..."

Robin pauses. "I can't go back to normal... It doesn't exist anymore..."

A strange silence falls in the apartment. Abby is determined to leave here with Robin by her side, to get her some help; she's not leaving until she does, and Robin knows that. "I can't sit here and watch you kill yourself..." she tells her. "If I did...I know I wouldn't be much of a friend."

Robin glances over quickly at her words, knowing that could never be true. "Okay," she says suddenly, "...fine. You win." Her slight grin eases Abby's mind—for now, at least.

Abby says softly, "Okay," and stands, "c'mon."

"What?"

"Let's go, c'mon."

Robin looks shocked, "What, _tonight_?"

"Yes, you're coming with me, whether you like it or not," she says, then, walks over near the door and grabs Robin's coat from a hook on the wall. She holds it in her hands for a few seconds, looking at her friend. "Dr. DeRadd said that he would see you if I brought you in..."

Robin starts to whine, "Abby, c'mon...I'm tired, I don't feel like goin'!"

Realizing that her friend is dangerously vulnerable right now, Abby moves over to her and helps her to stand. She's stricken by Robin's shaky voice as she slips the coat up her arms and slowly onto her shoulders.

"Abby...please," she says painfully, "don't make me go, Abby."

_Under the wide and starry sky _

_Dig the grave and let me lie; _

_Glad did I live and gladly die, _

_And I laid me down with a will. _

_This be the verse you grave for me: _

_'Here she lies where she long'd to be;' _

_Home is the sailor, home from sea, _

_And the hunter home from the hill. _

Robert Louis Stevenson – "Requiem"

Now in her car, Abby drives through the night. Streetlights shine down over the car as it passes them, one after the other—almost endless. She glances over next to her, then, back to the road.

The shot becomes wider, and you see Robin sitting in the passenger seat—her eyes heavy and dark, staring out the window at the sidewalk and the parked cars. She feels guilty somehow, because she feels as though she doesn't deserve Abby's help; she feels that she's making Abby think about her mother and her brother and the problems they've gone through. She feels guilt for making Abby worry.

All Abby is thinking about is if Robin will get worse from here on. She wonders how she'll react in therapy: anger, denial? Deciding to focus on this moment, Abby lets her fears slip away, looking at Robin again and putting on a sympathetic grin.

Robin doesn't feel Abby's eyes on her—she's too numb; her mind is like the snow on your television screen. She sits silently—almost too silent.

_"You know who I am..."_

Then, you watch the car drive down the wet road; the taillights glow a bright red; piles of snow lay around the cars parked along the curb. There's a sense of loneliness hanging in the air.

_My peace is gone, _

_My heart is heavy._

Johann von Goethe

Now at the hospital, Abby walks beside Robin with one hand on her back and the other on her arm. Robin walks slowly, dragging herself every step of the way—tired, mentally and physically.

The two friends come up to the main desk, and Abby speaks to the clerk, "Diane," and the woman looks up, "hi."

"Hi, what can I do for you guys?" she asks with a smile.

"Dr. DeRadd said he would be here when we stopped by, we need to speak with him."

"Okay," Diane says. "Who's the patient?"

Abby stops and looks at her for a brief moment; then, she looks down at the desk and over at Robin—who seems confused as she stares at a small vase of red flowers on the desk near her; her brows are scrunched together; she wonders how something so beautiful could have such a short life before it dies. Abby looks back to Diane, who realizes who the patient is.

"I see," she says softly and picks up the phone. "Dr. DeRadd, Abby Lockhart is here with Dr. Shepherd." She nods silently, then, hangs up. "He's waiting for you."

"Thanks," Abby grins, and she turns to Robin—still staring at the flowers—and puts her hand on her back again. "C'mon, Rob," she whispers gently. Robin snaps out of her daze and starts dragging down the hall once again.

Diane watches the two friends stroll toward DeRadd's office, noticing how dark Robin's behavior is. She's always been so strong, but now, she's become a hollow shell of a person. Diane is amazed by Abby and how compassionate she is in this time of urgency. Her heart is with them both.

Inside his office, DeRadd sits at his desk writing on a chart. He looks up when he hears a knock on the door. "Dr. Shepherd, Ms. Lockhart," he says, "come on in, have a seat."

Abby closes the door behind them, and the two women sit down in front of him.

"So," he begins, "Abby talked to me earlier... She told me about the cuts and the conversation you had earlier today...about the train."

Robin nods her head slowly, but says nothing.

"Are you thinking about things like that a lot lately?"

It takes her a few seconds, but she finally admits, "Yeah... The thoughts are in my head...but, in a way, I don't wanna act on 'em."

"But in another way, you do?"

Abby watches her intently.

Robin rubs her forehead with her fingers, and then, closes her tired eyes. "Yeah," she whispers.

"A lot of people would say that's the path of least resistance—"

"Well, a lot of people don't have to live with an incurable disease that runs their lives every hour of the fuckin' day, do they?" Her voice is dull and unchanging.

After a moment, DeRadd asks, "Ms. Lockhart, can I have a word with you outside, please?"

"Sure," Abby tells him; then, she says to Robin, "We'll be back in a minute, okay?"

Robin says in a dead tone, "Go have fun talkin' about me behind my back."

Abby rises and leaves the room with DeRadd. They walk past his secretary and into the hall. "I'm gonna have to put her on a seventy-two hour hold," he tells her.

"Wait, I thought you were just gonna talk to her," Abby says, stunned. "I can watch her for a few days—"

"She's clearly a danger to herself and others," he interrupts, "I have no choice."

"To herself, maybe," Abby argues, "but to others, I don't think so—"

"We can't take any chances."

Abby thinks for a moment and realizes that he's right.

"I need your help to get her to stay," DeRadd says. "Can you do that for me?"

She says nothing and just stares at his office door.

_Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul. _

Henry Van Dyke

The door to a small white room opens, and Abby and Robin stand at the doorway—Robin is almost in tears. In the room is only a barred window and a twin bed sitting in the corner.

"C'mon," Abby whispers and leads her inside.

As tears well up in her eyes, Robin sits down slowly on the bed—Abby stands next to her, trying to calm her by rubbing her back.

"Don't let 'em do this to me," Robin sobs, wiping a tear from her cheek. She leans over a little until her head rests on Abby's stomach, and she hugs her waist as she cries in vain, "Don't leave me here."

Abby can barely hold herself together as she holds her best friend close. After a few moments, she has to pry Robin's arms from around her waist and say goodbye for now. She keeps one arm around Robin's shoulders as she bends down slightly, kissing the top of her head gently. "You'll be okay," she whispers, making Robin cry even harder.

As Abby begins to leave, she cries out, "Abby, please!"

She looks back at her as she reaches the doorway and says, "You'll be alright, Rob," reassuring her.

_"Abby..." _Robin cries loudly as the door shuts. She breaks suddenly, sobbing and balling like a scared little child.

Abby walks down the hall away from the room, her footsteps echoing around her. She can barely keep her composure; it's been painful to watch her friend go through this hell. Tears stream down her face, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle her own sobs. She's going to tell the rest of the staff about what's happening; little does anyone know, this is just the beginning of a long, dark journey for one doctor and the entire ER.


End file.
